Happy New Year! I hope you all had a lovely Christmas. :)
Chapter three- A lunch, Gringotts Business and a dinner.
Morwen spent her lunch in the Leaky cauldron two days later, she'd organised the promised lunch with Maggie Boot. Sitting in the corner furthest from the noisy track the path to Diagon Alley made she ordered a butterbear while she waited. Flicking through the Daily Prophet she chuckled at the headline proclaiming that the aurors where looking for Sirius Black in Tibet.
"Morwen," Maggie appeared in a breathless whirl, "Honestly, what with it being the Summer we've got some school kids helping to staff. I shouldn't say it but they're bone idle, the lot of them."
"The café looks busy enough," she gave her lunch order to Tom, as Maggie did the same.
"Yes, well. Hopefully it stays that way," she looked to Morwen's discarded paper. Sirius wasn't on the front page, as usual that was reserved for Ministry proclamations of peace. "But enough of all that nonsense, I don't think there's much to worry about. How about you, haven't you met anyone since you've settled at home again?"
Inwardly Morwen sighed to herself, "Oh you know me, eternally single."
"Well, I love my Edwin to bits," Maggie rolled her eyes as she said it. "But just the thought of looking for a man these days. The wizarding world is so small, there's not exactly much choice."
"Nope, I guess not," Morwen felt like driving her spoon into her eye as Tom set her stew down on the table.
"Must be nice to be a career woman," Maggie rattled on around eating her sandwiches, "I'm glad of the family shop, gives me something to occupy myself with now the kids are at school."
Morwen smiled and rushed to ask how Edwin's job was going before Maggie spouted the merits of having children as well.
"Oh Edwin's great, still works in law enforcement, you know? He's working directly under the departmental Head now." Morwen hadn't known, nor really cared but if he was law enforcement it would perhaps be useful to keep meeting Maggie.
"We're holding a dinner party next week for his Ministry friends," Maggie's lit up, "You should come Morwen," she polished off a sandwich as Morwen considered it.
"Who will be attending?"
"Oh don't worry, there are a few eligible bachelors in the department, oh yes," she smiled conspiratorily, "I'll put you beside Magnus Montague, he is rather handsome and he has a good job in law enforcement!"
"Oh really?" the dark haired witch smiled at Maggie, arching a brow. "What does he do in law enforcement then?"
"Oh I've not a clue," she waved her hand in the air and rolled her eyes, "But you'll be able to ask him yourself darling."
"Yes, I suppose I will just have too," Morwen muttered.
"He's no golden Caradoc," Maggie grasped the arm Morwen was holding her tankard with. "But it is surprising Magnus hasn't married yet, he's a good catch. A good choice to move on with Morwen."
Morwen smiled through tightened lips, she didn't talk about Caradoc, everyone knew that.
"Not to mention Magnus agrees with Edwin, Dumbledore really should consider his position," she looked at the other witch before continuing at a whisper, "Dumbledore is going senile, you know. The whole Ministry knows it."
"Really?" Morwen arched an eyebrow, but Maggie took it for intrigue.
"Yes, but the Minister has plan. We've not to worry," she smiled and nodded her pretty head.
Returning to Gringotts with a raging headache Morwen was in a vile mood, and it didn't help that Griphook had filled her 'in trunk' with evaluations again. Who would have thought that Maggie Oakenham, one of her old dorm mates and a bright Ravenclaw, could have turned into such a…sheep. Aimlessly following the Ministry, the Prophet, and worse still; her husband. The only thing that perked her up was an invitation for dinner sitting in her 'in tray,' the sealed note had no name or address but invited her tomorrow night. The sender promised to bring the ingredients this time and she smiled at the clumsily drawn picture of a dog howling at the moon.
There was a sudden knock at her office door, waving her wand it opened to reveal a jovial little goblin.
Easily half the size of most goblins he gave her cheery smile, "Griphook requests you in his office miss," shocked she merely nodded. Never could remember seeing a Goblin smile, they were such a dour lot.
Griphook's office was downstairs, near to the cashier hall, and Morwen spent the short walk pondering what he wanted her for. Rapping the door, a much more ornate affair than hers, she waited until his nasal voice called out for her to come in.
"Ah, Miss Selwyn," he took off his eyeglass, pocketing it. "We've an errand to run."
"We do?"
"The mask," he turned to a heavy looking chest sitting behind his desk, running a finger along a lock with no hole there was a faint click. When he opened the lid, he bent to retrieve a bundle. Shrouded in a bit of black velvet she couldn't see the object but he somehow managed to stow it in a pocket inside his jacket.
Sealing the lid, he turned to her, "The committee decided that it would be agreeable to sell the piece. Grimblewick would rather we were not associated with it, it's value in gold is more profitable than selling its uses."
"Why, would you rent something like to people?" if they even considered exploiting its powers, it made her wonder what other weird and dangerous objects they had stashed away.
"It would be more of a lease, though the mask would be too complex to watch over or retrieve," Griphook explained as he locked the office after them.
"I'm sure."
When they arrived at the entrance to Knockturn Alley Morwen was aware who the potential buyer probably was. There were a few different shops willing to take dodgy goods, but the only one with any real gold was Borgin&Burkes.
As they made their way down the narrow lanes Griphook glanced at her, before revealing quietly, "Mr Burke no longer wishes to come to the bank in person for these meetings. In fact, he has become a little wary of buying certain…things."
"All the rumours circulating, the ministry is trying to calm people," she murmured, "they'll be watching businesses like his, they must be seen to be entirely legitimate. I suppose it wouldn't look good for the ministry if people are trading in dark artefacts."
"Grimblewick hopes your presence will make this process smoother."
"I've not dealt directly, I closed the business shortly after Uncle Izzy died over a year ago," she warned Griphook, "I've had no dealings with the man."
"You are a witch, that might be enough," Griphook replied.
Morwen could remember being in Borgin&Burkes with her uncle, but in recent years he had went to the shop by himself. The memories involved the smell of mould and a fine dust which coated everything, which had even floated in the air around her head. As Griphook and the witch entered it became apparent that not much had changed, the shop was murkily lit and the long bench at the rear was unmanned. A floor to ceiling window jutted out into a small yard to the back of the building, the glass was so grimy that the light filtered in hazily.
Griphook lifted a single finger and rang the bell, an old-fashioned brass thing. Not much time passed before a thin, balding man wearing old fashioned tweed swept a curtain aside and emerged from the depths of the building.
"Griphook," he greeted the goblin, he hesitated slightly when he caught sight of her peering in a cabinet sitting beside the bench, "and Miss Selwyn?"
"Mr Borgin," she smiled, "I was just looking at your tarot deck. My uncle bought them on a trip to Budapest, you know?."
Borgin nodded," Yes, they belonged to Sofi Razvan according to your uncle."
"The famous seer," she explained to an unimpressed Griphook.
"We are here with business," the goblin turned to Borgin, eager to get on with it.
"Well perhaps you should show me your business," Borgin waved an arm.
Griphook brought the velvet package out of his jacket and set it onto the desk, Borgin unfolded the cloth to reveal the mask, careful not to touch it.
"Don't worry Mr Borgin," Morwen chuckled, "this one only works by murder."
Griphook glared at her as Borgin sighed, gazing down at the mask "Sounds a little…niche."
"It's a very unusual piece, very one of a kind. A great talking point for any wealthy wizard amongst his friends ," Griphook assured him.
"The market is a little slow at the minute, it reeks of everything I should not be selling," Borgin dismissively waved a hand before taking his glasses off and beginning to clean them.
Griphook hissed and growled out, "We are offering a very reasonable price, but I can always take Gringotts' business elsewhere."
"Really Griphook," Borgin paused and looked down at the goblin with a sneer, "America? Europe? Who would deal with a-"
Griphook looked incensed and Morwen groaned inwardly before lifting the tatty thing off the countertop.
"But it is merely a mask," Morwen leaned over the counter, closer to the elder man, "Look, I can touch it, lift it, I can even wear it." Playfully she lifted the mask and peered at him through the eye holes. Before lowering the mask to look out over it, wide eyed at Borgin, "Why it is just a grisly funereal mask! What ministry investigator could find out its real purpose."
"Magic," Borgin bit out sharply. Before softening at her disappointed gaze, as she leaned sulkily against the counter, angled towards him, "I know you're working for Gringotts, Miss Selwyn, but Borgin and Burkes would have happily taken you on. We had no idea you were closing the family business."
Reaching out he grasped one of her hands in his own, the mask falling onto the table forgotten. The hands were cold and clammy, he stared unblinkingly at her from where he leaned over his own side of the counter. Morwen had worn her robes open today, Borgin's pale blue eyes, slightly watered, dilated with lust as he glanced over the V-neck silk blouse beneath. As her mouse fell into the trap she could almost see his nose twitch.
"A most flattering offer Mr Borgin," she thanked him, demurely withdrawing from his touch. Standing up straight with a sigh she continued "but if times are as quiet as you say, well you would have no use for me surely? "
"I didn't say that we are not busy, Miss Selwyn," Borgin hurriedly jumped to cut her trailing voice off, "I'm sure we could find something to occupy you with," the older man slyly insisted to her.
"We'll take the mask," another voice cut across the silence from the other side of the curtain to the backroom. Morwen assumed the gentleman appearing to be Mr Burke, where his counterpart was dowdily dressed, Burke's jacket and waistcoat were impeccably tailored. The expensive fabric gleamed, the seams exquisitely sewn and his salt and pepper dark hair was swept back, not a strand out of place.
Sharp black eyes surveyed the witch from the doorway, starting at the bottom of her velvet edged cloak and leisurely pursuing upwards. Fixing her face in a mask Morwen tried not show her rising nerves, thinking of all the times she'd been subjected to her grandmother's walking cane. The thin reedy voice jumped into her head, 'stand straight girl'…' take that childish emotion from your face, what pure blooded man wants a simpering fool'? Grandmother Isla had tried to teach her how to manoeuvre pureblood society in her own twisted loving way.
Burke smirked as his dark eyes met her own, "A piece sourced by Isiah Selwyn and so engagingly pressed upon us by his lovely niece, how could we say no Jacob?"
"Indeed, Caractacus," Jacob Borgin was the elder, she guessed the elegantly dressed man still watching her was the old Burke's nephew or perhaps a son. The elder seemed to defer to the younge,r but then Izzy had always warned her that the Burkes where the shrewder of the lot.
"Well then Griphook, what price do the goblins put on such a mask?"
"Forty galleons, Mr Burke," Griphook replied from where he had been standing quietly at the end of the bench.
"You are forthright with your price Griphook, but in these uneasy times?" the handsome wizard laughed, uncoiling himself from the door and making his way towards the counter with a lazy stride. Lifting the mask for consideration he continued, "The climate is a little…tense. The market is wary, I'll give you thirty."
Griphook laughed darkly, fingers steepled beneath his pointed chin. "Grimblewick insists upon forty, the mask is one of a kind."
Burke raised an eyebrow to Morwen, who had drifted away to a glass case in the middle of the shop, "Is thirty-five not a fair price, Miss Selwyn?"
Pausing to look at some jewelled skulls she considered his offer, slowly mulling as the tension between the goblin and wizards crackled a little. Finally, she thought of how difficult the mask would be to off load anywhere else, the offer wasn't nonsensical, and so she glanced at the stonily silent goblin.
"Take the offer Griphook, Mr Burke needs to make a profit I suppose," Griphook glared at her for a moment and there was a long pause until he finally conceded and nodded to Burke.
"Wonderful," Caractacus Burke clapped his black gloved hands together and motioned to Borgin.
Borgin paid the Goblin, Griphook then turned and strode down the shop to the door, motioning her to follow. Morwen wasn't sure if he was unhappy or not, Griphook always look rather unpleased.
"Do come back Miss Selwyn," Burke called to her, leaning comfortably against the counter. Inclining her head to him, she simply followed Griphook out the door.
He said nothing until they left Knockturn Alley, a rather long, although brisk walk full of silence.
"They would've stretched to Forty."
"Yes, probably," she agreed with the goblin, "But they invited us back."
After work Morwen made her way out of Diagon Alley to muggle London, twenty minutes later she apparated to the Selwyn townhouse with her Chinese in hand. Yawning on the stoop she laid her palm against the old wood of the door and with a sighing creak it opened to let her in.
"Howey," she greeted the house elf with relief, the little elf bowed rather imperiously as she reached him her cloak and handbag. Howey was getting on but the foyer's polished marbled floor still glittered in the candlelight of the chandelier. Still, she thought about how she'd have to broach the issue of another house elf. Howey had been her mother's wedding present many moons ago and would need the help before too long.
"Ahem…Mistress Morwena?"
"Yes, Howey?" she shook out of her thoughts as they walked down the hall, past the ornate staircase, to the kitchen at the back of the house.
"Some post arrived," the post materialised beside her on the table as the house elf closed the curtains across the tall windows. "Also Mistress, your cousin visited today."
"Talan?" she looked up as Howey nodded balefully. "What did he want? He hasn't used this house in years."
"He didn't tell Howey Mistress," Howey's ears flattened a little, "Master Talan just said he needed to use a guest room, Howey thinks he just slept and left. Master Talan looked rather unwell Mistress."
"Very well Howey," she replied as the house elf clutched his hands, "We shan't bar him from the house, I have nothing to hide, but you must tell me each and every time he visits."
"Of course, Mistress," Howey bowed his head and vanished.
Morwen ate her Chinese and contemplated how to handle her cousin Talan, they were of the same age and Morwen had suspected her cousin in the first war. Morwen's father had been head of the family, what was left of it, and although he'd turned a blind eye to his nephew's dealings with death eaters, Talan wasn't allowed to step foot in the townhouse in those days.
'Your bad for the Selwyn name son," her father told him one night as he raged at the back door to the kitchen, 'The ministry cannot think I have anything to do with you." Sense was enough to keep him away, Ruan had been Head of the Administrative Registration Department, but Morwen's father was dead. The entail had left Talan the manor in Cornwall, Morwen sighed to herself, he would have to be content with that.
The next evening saw her return to Grimmauld Place and the company of Sirius and Remus.
"I've been thinking Morwen," Remus suddenly turned to her after they'd finished dinner, true to his word he had brought the ingredients for a Spaghetti Bolognese. "If your necklace is used at weddings, would it still have been used up until now?"
"I don't know," she shrugged over her red wine. "Gringotts have only acquired it recently from the owners, it's possible."
"Only," he turned to Sirius thoughtfully, "Is there any wedding photos in this house? Would your family have kept that sort of thing about?"
"Oh, a bride could be wearing it," Morwen gasped excitedly and looked to Sirius.
"I haven't exactly been going through the place, "he replied, rolling his eyes, "but yeah, they're probably in the attic, or maybe a cupboard somewhere." The dark haired wizard elegantly waved her off with immense disinterest.
"Could you take a look for me?" she asked him hopefully.
Sirius grimaced at her, "To be honest, the state of the place I'm liable to get attacked by something if I start hunting through this house."
Morwen sighed, "Oh go on, you'd be helping me such a great deal."
"Yeah Padfoot," Remus piped up from across the table, "Not as if you're doing anything else."
Sirius glared at him but finally gave in to Morwen and nodded.
Grinning at his moping face she lunged over and hugged him, he sat motionless before patting her back a little. Morwen was a little surprised at how skinny he still was, silently she told herself she'd need to keep an eye on these two. Remus' weight always went up and down, with the moon and his employment situation, but the pair seemed to be subsiding on wine and whiskey.
"Oh you're a star Black," finally letting go of Sirius she beamed, "Oh Bill's face if I can ferret out something he can't."
"Well I am actually a star," Sirius shrugged moodily, as Remus snorted.
"What?" she asked puzzled.
"Sirius, the dog star," Remus replied helpfully.
"Oh right, yes. Really Sirius," rolling her eyes she got up from her chair, "I should be getting home, my house elf will be worrying, but I can pop in over the weekend again. I haven't got much going on anyway."
Sirius brightened at the mention of company again, "Yeah, that'd be nice. Wouldn't it Remus?"
"We got a missive from Fawkes, there's another meeting here on Saturday night so why don't you come over early?" Remus added as she drained her wine glass and set it back down on the table.
"Brilliant," she lifted her cloak off the back the chair, "It would be great if Bill and I could sort this one. The goblins respect a good curse breaker case, would go a long way to getting to closer to them."
Sirius snorted, "Slippery little bastards, I wouldn't hold my breath Morwen, they'll never trust any witch or wizard."
